


hey, I can be the answer

by ElasticElla



Series: M(V)P Oneshots [5]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, canon? i don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Wes comes out of the bathroom, clearing his throat. Michaela adds another sentence, then looks up from her case study to see pale green lace.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from 212  
> [[tumblr is my home](http://bizeke.tumblr.com/)]

Wes comes out of the bathroom, clearing his throat. Michaela adds another sentence, then looks up from her case study to see pale green lace. Her mouth falls open, and she searches for the right words to quickly fill it, “Are those mine?” 

Those aren't the ones. A second after they're out, Michaela knows it's impossible for the panties or stockings to belong to her. The green is way too pale, the lace decorative in a way that's very aesthetically pleasing- but _definitely_ itchy. 

“No,” Wes says with a smile, “I brought these over.” 

Michaela's lips thin, “I'm still finishing my paper.” 

“Of course, that is why we're here instead of at my place.” 

“Watch it buddy or it'll be the library.” 

Wes shivers- certainly not from the cold, her apartment is always exactly at seventy-two degrees- and Michaela can't think about the why. (It comes anyways: Wes wearing lingerie under his boring plaid outfits, going to class or the library or Professor Keating's.)

“Okay,” Wes says, coming closer and Michaela has to focus on her screen, not the way the lace beckons, or his lean chest coming closer. 

It's bare she realizes belatedly, going for the first thing that comes to mind, “Aren't you cold?” 

She wants to groan. It's annoying the way Wes can fuck up her thought process just by existing. 

“Nah,” Wes says, sitting on her bed. “But I wouldn't stop you from warming me up.” 

“That was terrible,” Michaela says, turning back to her paper. She's only on the third page, she still has five hundred words to go or so. She rolls her shoulders, sinking back into her mattress once more, as if pseudo-better posture might make the words come faster. Not that craning her neck like this was good posture, she'd have to move soon. 

“Maybe you need a little break,” Wes suggests, “a reboot.” 

Michaela rolls her eyes, but then Wes has already moved between her thighs, fingertips trailing up her legs. 

“C'mon you still have two days, at most in thirty minutes you'll be refreshed and ready to add to your argument,” Wes says, thumbs rubbing slow circles on the insides of her knees. 

“Someone's feeling confident.” Michaela teases, before processing it fully, “Wait! What do you mean two days? I thought this was due tomorrow.”

“You haven't checked your email,” Wes says, hands inching upwards, “family emergency.” 

Michaela opens up her school email, and sure enough Professor Ayott won't be holding their morning class and papers have been universally granted a one day extension. It's just like him not to trust his TAs, not that Michaela particularly minds in this case. 

“So?” Wes asks, leaning down to brush his lips against her lower belly. 

The _yes_ is trapped under her tongue, she needs to do at least another hundred words tonight. “It would set a bad precedent. You're not distracting me from my paper.” 

It's the wrong thing to say, _again_ , or maybe it's exactly what she intended, a corner of her mind whispers. 

Wes grins, “Okay, you sit up there being all _not distracted_ and I'll have some fun down here.” 

Michaela sniffs, staring harder at her laptop's screen. She just needed to add six sentences. Six sentences and there was a very obvious reward waiting for her. Even wrapped up and- right the paper. She's thinking about the paper. 

Then Wes pulls off her pajama shorts, and softly kisses her clit, and she is _not_ thinking about her paper. 

She keeps her fingers on the keyboard, because he can't win so easily, typing out a sentence of nonsense. It doesn't matter, she just needs to keep moving her fingers and maybe one of the sentences will be usable in the morning. At this point she doesn't even care, is only keeping the warm laptop on her stomach to prove a point. A point that seems more and more inconsequential as she can't see her boyfriend very well, can just see his mint lace covered feet flicking and dammit. 

Michaela closes the laptop, pushing it aside and she can _feel_ his grin against her lips. 

“Shut up I-” she starts, the rest of the words lost as a finger slips inside her and his tongue licks wide strips from her entrance to clit, over and over. Her eyes ache to close at the overwhelming sensations, but he looks too good- head between her thighs, back muscles bunching, and his legs- fuck, his _ass_ is glorious encased in lace. 

Too much, Michaela thinks, eyes finally closing as she arcs ever higher and her fingers slip into his hair. She'd have to think of something to top this, something to literally knock him off his feet. Wes sucks on her clit, and she keens. Later, she decides, heat still building in every inch of her body.


End file.
